


These Foolish Things

by ficbear



Series: Gunsel [24]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Double Anal Penetration, Exhibitionism, Face Slapping, M/M, Naked Male Clothed Male, Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Polyamory, Rentboys, Rough Sex, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 09:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficbear/pseuds/ficbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between the two of them I feel like I've been caught in a web there's no escaping from. Where else can my mind wander, except back and forth between lean muscle and soft skin, gaudy tattoos and flashy jewellery, gleaming pomade and sweet, heavy perfume? Between the two of them, I haven’t got a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Foolish Things

He's exactly how Ray described him. Short, pale, dark-haired, and dressed to the nines. He's pretty enough that you'd spot him a mile off whatever he was wearing, but the way he's done up, you couldn't miss him. The long coat he's wrapped up in is blood-red, with a nipped waist and a brownish fur collar that I reckon is supposed to be mink, and beneath that, I can see the lapels and cuffs of a burgundy suit, the collar of a bright scarlet shirt, and the gleaming knot of a bronze satin tie. Even his hands are covered up, in dark brown suede gloves that match his boots, so that the only bare skin on him is the soft white oval of his face. He looks like a delicate little treasure someone's tucked away in a plush velvet box, just waiting to be unwrapped and enjoyed.

"Hello," he says, waving with his free hand. He must be roasting in that getup, but if he is, he doesn't show it. The platform is crowded with commuters and day-trippers, all sweating and flustered, sticky from the heat and the smog, flooding around us and jostling each other, some bickering, some grumbling to themselves, all of them tired and irritated in the way only a hot day in a grimy city can make you. Standing in the middle of that, the boy looks so comfortable he almost doesn't seem human.

"You must be Kitty." I say, stupidly.

"Yes." He gives me a patient smile. "Do you prefer to be called Mr Castro, or..?"

The question throws me, on account of I don't remember anyone asking before, and I don't even _know_ what I prefer from a boy like that, but I smile at him and say "Call me Johnny."

"Okay," he says, shifting his little leather suitcase from one hand to the other. "Well then, Johnny, what's the plan for today?"

"I thought we'd go and get you settled in, first of all. You'll have your own place eventually, but that's going to take a few days to sort out, so for the first time being you'll be staying in one of our hotels."

"Okay." He nods, smiling. "Will I be starting work tonight?"

"No, you'll have your nose to the grindstone from tomorrow onwards, but you do get to have a bit of a rest first." I throw him a grin. "Still, if you feel up to it later on, I wouldn't mind taking you to see the club you're going to be working out of. Just so you can get a feel for the place, you know."

"I'd like that," he says, catching that grin and throwing it back at me. "It'll give us a chance to get to know each other."

 

* * *

 

There's a sort of adaptability about Kitty that I can't help envying. His clothes are cheap and gaudy, but when you actually look at him, at those sharp cheekbones, those bright eyes and that delicate mouth, you can imagine him being just as comfortable in white tie as he is in leopard print. I think you could take him anywhere, and he'd mould himself into whatever shape you needed. It's not just the visuals, either, it comes across in his attitude, the way he carries himself, the way he talks. When he stepped off the train this afternoon, he sounded like a younger version of Patrick, and half a day later he's already picked up a bit of my accent. Give it a few weeks, and I reckon he'll sound like a native.

"What else d'you want to know?" he says, smiling at me over the top of his glass.

I've had his backstory already—grammar school, failed exams, a no-good boyfriend and some overprotective parents—but we've hardly touched on work. "Well," I say, watching his face carefully, "you've had plenty of experience, I know that much, but what I don't know is what you specialise in."

"Couples," he says quickly, and then he frowns a little. "But not group scenes, I haven't got the concentration for more than two at a time."

"Anything else?" I say casually, trying to get the image of me and him and Tommy out of my head.

"I can take a beating." He knocks back the last of his orange juice and laughs. "And I mean a _real_ beating, none of this messing about with little taps and slaps."

I can't help smirking. "Oh, is that right?"

"What, did you think I was too fragile for any of that? This isn't fine china, Johnny." He grins, tapping one cheekbone with his fingertips. "It's solid ice."

"Sounds like Patrick did us a favour, sending you over here," I laugh. "Maybe I ought to send him a thank-you card."

"Yeah," the boy says, but the grin fades from his lips before the word's out of his mouth. I've put my foot in it, I know that, and I know I should just leave it, but somehow I can't stop myself from keeping on talking, trying to make it better.

"Listen," I say, putting my hand on his arm, "I know you wouldn't have chosen to come here if it was down to you. Right now, being kept apart probably feels like the worst thing in the world, but it'll pass, and in a few months you'll be wondering what all the fuss was about, I promise."

He looks at me, not saying anything, and at first his eyes are as cold and hard as the glass in his hand, but after a few seconds they seem to soften and warm. He doesn't trust me yet, and I can hardly blame him for that, can I? To Kitty, I must seem like another arm of the machine that's punishing him for something that isn't even wrong. Still, I think he's opening up now, just a bit, just enough for me to have a chance of really winning him over.

"In the meantime," I carry on, "we'll keep you busy enough that you won't have time to think about it, and if things get too much for you, you just come and talk to me, alright?"

"Thanks," he says, with a weak little smile. "I appreciate it, Johnny."

 

* * *

 

I don't know why I'm worrying. The guy I packed Kitty off with is about as easy-going as they come. I couldn't have chosen a softer landing for the boy if I'd hand-picked him myself. And besides, it's not like Kitty's a beginner. Sure, he doesn't know this place, and he doesn't know the clientele, but he's been doing this for years, and you don't last that long without being able to take care of yourself. He doesn't need me playing nursemaid.

Still, it's been half an hour now, and I'd put that guy as a twenty minute job, tops.

"And then _he_ says, 'You'd better shut that mouth if you know what's good for you!' so then _I_ say 'Yeah, and you're gonna shut me up, are you?' and then that Crawford guy comes in and says—" Tommy stops, and scowls at me. "Johnny, you ain't listening."

"Sure I am." I put my glass down on the bar, harder than I meant to, so that the ice in the bottom rattles.

"Oh yeah? What was I talking about, then?"

"You had a fight with Bryant, and Crawford had to hose the pair of you down with cold water."

"Hah!" the kid scoffs. "It wasn't a fight, it was an _argument_ , and that little shrimp couldn't have laid a finger on me even if he'd tried. And _anyway_ ," he carries on, rolling his eyes, "even if you were half-listening, I _know_ you're fretting about that new guy. I ain't stupid, Johnny, it's written all over your face."

"Yeah, well, you'd be worried too, if you were supposed to be looking after him."

"Nah," Tommy says, grinning at me. "He can look after himself, that one."

I'm just trying to figure out the best way to explain to the kid how completely wrong he is, when I hear the jangling of jewellery behind me.

"How'd it go?" I pat the barstool next to me, and when Kitty flops down onto it, I have to bite my tongue to keep from asking him if he's alright.

"Marvellously," he says, and you can hear a bit of Patrick in his voice now. "I do get bored of simple requests, but there is something to be said for the occasional straightforward job, isn't there? For instance," he carries on, throwing me a long, hot look as he talks, "I barely exerted myself at all just now, so I'm still as fresh as a daisy. I've more than enough energy to go again. In fact—" He pauses to pick up my drink, and knocks it back it in one, holding my gaze as he drains the glass. "I could go again right now, if you like."

I watch as he wipes his mouth with the pad of his thumb, as the rum glistens and dries on his lips. I watch those hazel eyes glittering as he throws the same hungry look at Tommy, and I watch Tommy throwing it right back at the boy, grinning that shameless grin. I watch the lot, and in my head I'm cursing the pair of them. Now, no-one's told me to keep it hands-off, and sure, in the old days I'd have been all over Kitty like a rash the minute he gave me the eye, but the way I see it, I'm supposed to be looking after him, like a proper manager would, and a _real_ manager would never lay a hand on one of his boys, right? So my hands are staying in my pockets, where they can't get in any trouble.

"Don't you worry about that," I say, giving Kitty my best neutral smile. "I'm not going to send you out on another job tonight, not so soon after you arrived."

"If you say so." He shrugs, and lets those warm eyes wander from my face to Tommy's and back again. "But still, it seems a shame to waste all this energy, and I _did_ say I specialise in couples…"

"That's as may be," I say, clearing my throat, "but I'm meant to be looking after you, not having fun with you."

Kitty laughs. "Well, that never stopped Patrick."

And now I've got two vivid pictures blown-up on the big screen in my mind. The first is Kitty and Patrick going at it, as hard and nasty as any pair of tough guys you ever saw, only with a backdrop of silk and fur and glitter. The other's a big flashing green light, saying _Go ahead, if Patrick samples the merchandise, why shouldn't you?_ So now I've got to make a choice. Do I do things the way I'd meant to, do I keep on following the plan I'd just about started to piece together in my head, or do I drop all that and do things Patrick's way?

"Well," I laugh, putting my hand on the small of his back. "If that's what you're used to, I'm not going to argue."

The pair of them can barely keep their hands off each other as they follow me out of the club and onto the street, and by the time I've flagged down a cab they're kissing like a couple of sex-starved teenagers. Once we're in the back of the car, though, I get the brunt of their attention. I sit in the middle, with one arm around each of them, and between Tommy's hand resting in my lap, and Kitty's lips close to my ear, telling me in a sweet soft voice all the things he wants us to do to him, that twenty minute cab ride seems to take about ten seconds flat.

As soon as we're in my flat, Kitty starts stripping off, as if the quick little job he just finished only whetted his appetite, and now he can't wait to get started on the main course. The leopard-print coat comes off before I've even locked the door behind us, and he throws it over one of the armchairs without looking to see where it lands. The black satin shirt comes off too, unbuttoned quickly and shucked off into a shimmery heap on the floor, and by the time I've taken my jacket off, he's kicked his shoes off and started unbuttoning his trousers. By the time Tommy comes back from hanging my jacket up, Kitty's standing in front of us, naked except for the jewellery glittering on his throat and wrists.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he says, raising an eyebrow. "An engraved invitation?"

"Come here." I point at the floor in front of me. "On your knees."

He slips into position without a word, and when he's kneeling in front of us, I reach down and grab hold of his chin. "Let's see if you can keep the two of us happy, shall we?"

"Oh, is this an audition?" He brings one hand up to my belt, and one up to Tommy's, and he gives me a crisp little smirk. "I didn't realise I was on probation."

Tommy laughs. "Round here, you're _always_ on probation."

"Well," Kitty says, smiling up at me as he starts to unfasten Tommy's fly, "I'll have to do my best to impress you, then."

Most boys would home right in on the highest-ranking guy in the room, but he's right to start with Tommy. Tonight, as much as I want a crack at Kitty myself, I'm more interested in watching him work, and to do that I need to be at a distance, outside it all, looking in. He unbuttons my fly, too, and wraps one hand around each of our cocks, working both of us with the same slow, steady strokes, but as good as those soft fingers are, they're nothing compared to the sight of Kitty leaning forward and flicking that rose-pink tongue out to lick at Tommy's shaft. It's nothing compared to watching him parting those red, smiling lips and sliding them down along the length of it. He tightens his grip on my cock as he starts to move, and it feels like it might as well be me in there, sliding against his tongue, rubbing against his lips, forcing his throat open.

"You should try him," Tommy says, grinning at me. "He's pretty good."

"Is he, now?" I laugh, aiming for casual, but it comes out gruff and harsh. "I'll be the judge of that."

I grab a handful of Kitty's hair and drag him up off Tommy's cock, pulling him over to my side, and when he looks up at me, his eyes are as bright as the string of diamantes sparkling around his throat.

"What happens if my performance isn't up to scratch?" he says, stroking one hand over my cock and the other hand over Tommy's, slow and steady and firm. "Are you going to teach me a lesson?"

"Maybe." I tighten my grip on his hair, and bring my other hand down to give his cheek a gentle little slap. "So you'd better put your back into it, hadn't you?"

"Oh, come on, Johnny, I've heard all about you, and I know you can do better than that." He smirks up at me, and now his eyes are full of mischief. "I told you I could take a real beating, didn't I? You don't have to hold b—"

I slap him again, harder this time, so he cuts himself off with a breathy little gasp.

"You want to watch that mouth," I say, yanking his head back. "It'll get you in all sorts of trouble."

"Big trouble," Tommy pipes up, like a rough little echo.

"Oh, but I _like_ trouble."

"Course you do." I backhand him, giving him a matching pink blush on the other cheek, and this time he doesn't gasp. This time the noise he makes is the sigh of a boy who's had just the right button pushed. I pull him forward, and rub my cock against his cheek, grinding that flushed pink skin against my shaft. "You like trouble almost as much as you like _this_ , right?"

"Almost." Kitty licks those red, smiling lips, and laughs. "But not quite."

Part of me wants to slap him again, to smack him around all night, but I can't take my eyes off that mouth of his, and the longer I look at it, the less I can resist. Right now all I want is to feel the heat of his tongue sliding against me, the soft touch of those lips circling me, the tight grip of that wet throat swallowing me. I push him down, forcing him to take it all, holding him down long enough that an amateur would have started to cough and choke. But not Kitty. He stays in position, with his mouth full of my cock and his lips pressed right down against the base of it, taking it as easy and smooth in his throat as he would in his fist. He doesn't even flinch when I drag him up by the hair and shove him down again, when I hold his head in place and fuck his throat in sharp, deep, brutal thrusts. He could take anything, I reckon. Anything you cared to throw at him, he'd swallow it all with a smile on his face.

"Let me have another go," Tommy says, edging a bit closer.

"Not yet." I let go of Kitty's hair, leaving him to do the work, and I cup one hand around the back of Tommy's neck. When I pull him into a kiss, he gives an excited little groan and slides his arms around my waist, grinding up against my thigh so I can feel the wetness of Kitty's spit still warm on his cock. I reach down and take hold of him, stroking my hand lightly along his shaft, and he groans into the kiss, louder now, hungry and desperate. With the noises Tommy makes, I wonder how I ever hold off more than a few minutes. How do I ever manage not to give him his way as soon as he opens his mouth?

"Alright," I say, putting a hand on top of Kitty's head to guide him. "Now you can have another turn."

Kitty goes for it, no messing around, working his mouth up and down Tommy's shaft like he's trying to milk him dry right now, and that grip Tommy's got on my waist just gets tighter and tighter. He clings onto me like he's worried he'll get swept away, leaning his head against my shoulder, and every time Kitty pushes down to swallow the last few inches of his cock, Tommy tenses up and breathes out a fevered little moan against my neck.

"Johnny," he says, bucking his hips forward, thrusting into Kitty's mouth faster now, like he's barely keeping himself under control. "Johnny, it's too fast, can we switch up, I can't—"

"Kitty," I interrupt him, pushing the boy back gently by the shoulder. "Don't overdo it, I don't want him wearing out for a good while yet."

"Alright," Kitty says, beaming up at me. I get the feeling he would've loved to finish Tommy off early, just to prove that he could.

"I want you up there next," I say, pointing at the coffee table. "On your hands and knees, facing away from me. Tommy, get him ready."

The two of them do as they're told, with Kitty half-smiling nonchalantly as he gets into position, and Tommy grinning at me as he lubes the boy up. I should be watching his fingers sliding into Kitty's ass, I should be enjoying the show they're putting on for me, but somehow I find myself watching Tommy's face instead. He keeps glancing down at what he's doing, and then glancing back up at me, like he needs to keep checking I'm watching, and the whole time he's got the kind of gleeful look on his face that makes me want to smack him and kiss him all at once.

"Alright, he's had enough of a warm-up. Strip off and stand there," I order him, pointing at the spot in front of Kitty's head. "But don't touch him until I tell you."

"Sure thing, Johnny."

"That's very cruel," Kitty says, throwing me a smirk over his shoulder as I get into position behind him. "Does he always do exactly what you tell him?"

"Sure," I laugh. "Eventually."

I push forward, sliding my cock into his ass nice and steady, holding onto those narrow hips as I feed it into him, swallowing down the little groan that wells up in my throat as the warmth of him closes around me. He presses back against me, spreading those smooth thighs a bit wider, breathing out a long, soft sigh as the last of my cock sinks into him. He's so smooth and hot, I couldn't keep still even if I was trying to take it easy. I start to move inside him straight away, fucking him as slowly as I can, giving it to him in long, deep, heavy strokes. I want him to feel every inch, every second, in careful, hard, deliberate detail. I want him to take it on my schedule, but then the boy glances back at me and says "More," with so much naked greed in his voice that I couldn't hold off if I tried.

"Like that," he says, leaning forward on his elbows, letting his head fall forward as if he can't think of anything now but the feeling of being fucked. "Like that, keep going, just like that…"

"Look at him," Tommy says, about as quiet and restrained as he ever manages. "He's crazy for it, isn't he?"

And Tommy's right, but it's not Kitty I'm looking at, now. Standing there watching us, naked and grinning that shameless grin, stroking his fist loosely up and down along his cock, Tommy looks like the kind of thing I'd conjure up in one of my daydreams. He's exactly what my mind would wander onto in the middle of fucking a pretty boy like this, and for his part Kitty's the type I'd find myself daydreaming about in the middle of fucking a rough little scrapper like Tommy, so between the two of them I feel like I've been caught in a web there's no escaping from. Where else can my mind wander, except back and forth between lean muscle and soft skin, gaudy tattoos and flashy jewellery, gleaming pomade and sweet, heavy perfume? Between the two of them, I haven’t got a chance.

"Hey, Johnny, how about now?" Tommy says, edging forward a bit. "Please, I've been waiting for _ages_."

He sounds so pitiful that I can't help laughing. "Alright, come here and fuck his mouth."

"Sure thing," he says, grinning at me as he comes forward to stand right in front of Kitty. Then the boy leans forward, dipping his head, and that grin melts into the most beautiful frown of concentration you ever saw.  He's like this every time. It's as if, for Tommy, the thrill of this never feels anything less than brand new. And he's young, I'll grant you, but not _that_ young. He'll be twenty-two in a few months, so by my reckoning he's been fucking boys like Kitty—well, maybe not _exactly_ like Kitty—for five or six years now, and yet he never goes at it anything less than full-throttle, never with anything less than sheer glee on his face. It seems like a miracle to me, sometimes. I've known boys younger than Tommy who got tired and jaded within a few years, and by the time they hit twenty they could take it or leave it. But not Tommy. I don't think the shine will ever wear off for him.

"Johnny," he says suddenly, "can we swap round?"

"You've got no patience, that's your trouble." I tut, but I can't say no to him. "Alright, I fancy watching the pair of you go at it for a bit, anyway."

"Well, then," Kitty says, once we've both pulled out. "Where do you want me?"

It should really be down to me, but before I can answer, Tommy grins and says "Everywhere!" about as eagerly as if he'd never laid hands on a boy before.

You'd think Kitty would roll his eyes at that kind of enthusiasm, but if anything it seems to spur him on. He reaches out and pulls Tommy down into a kiss, and it's the kind of clinch that's half darting tongues and half groping hands, hungry and greedy and completely abandoned. To watch them clutching at each other, you'd think they were each other's dream come true, and it's only when Kitty breaks the kiss and hugs him closer that the spell starts to break.

"As long as you fuck me," the boy says, talking to Tommy, but looking right at me over his shoulder, giving me the full beam of those glittering hazel eyes, "I don't care how or where…"

Kitty lets go of him and stretches out on the table, and the picture that boy makes, I could look at all day. The angle of his legs, spread wide and drawn up, laying himself completely open to us. The purple diamante bracelets glittering on his wrists. The delicate hands resting on his thighs, stroking manicured nails across soft white skin. The dusky pink blush of his ass, wet and glistening with lube, and above that the flushed lurid red of his cock, all the more obscene against the pale, smooth skin of his stomach.

"Don't keep me waiting," he says, sliding a fingertip down to trace a wet circle around the rim of his ass. "Hurry up and fuck me again, before I have to take matters into my own hands…"

Tommy kneels down between the boy's legs so eagerly I don't think I could've called him off if I'd had a leash around his neck. Then he slides his cock in, and Kitty winds his arms around Tommy's neck, giving the kind of long, soft moan that used to finish me off in two seconds flat. That moan must sound like a firing pistol to Tommy, because he goes at it hard and fast from the first stroke, slamming into Kitty's ass like he doesn't care if it _is_ all over in a few minutes. He doesn't pace himself at all, he just throws himself headlong into nailing the boy, ramping the pace and the force of it up higher and higher until the table underneath them starts to creak and rattle every time he thrusts forward. I stand behind him, watching the muscles of his ass flexing and tautening as he moves, the thin sheen of sweat glistening on his back, the light glinting on his hair, and all of a sudden just watching isn't enough. I've got to feel him underneath me, and I've got to feel it _now_. I'm on my feet again before I know what I'm doing.

"Hold still," I say, grabbing his shoulder with one hand, and stroking a palmful of lube over my cock with the other. He does as he's told, keeping still even with Kitty squirming underneath him, even with my fingers sliding into him, even with three of them pushed in knuckle-deep, spreading him open. It's only when I take my fingers out and line my cock up against his ass that Tommy finally runs out of self-control, and he arches up, pushing back against me.

"Come on, give it me," he says, looking over his shoulder with the most pitifully desperate expression you ever saw. "Come on, I'm gonna go mad if you keep teasing me like that."

"Are you?" I laugh, pressing forward just slightly, rubbing the tip of my cock slowly up and down against him. "You know, I wouldn't mind seeing that."

"Johnny, please," he begs, twisting around a bit more, staring up at me with those big, dark eyes. " _Please._ "

"That's what I like to hear." I grab hold of his hair, and push forward slowly, sliding my cock into him inch by inch until he's taken the lot. "I like a well-mannered boy, don't I, Tommy?"

"Yeah," he says, but the word trails off into a groan as I start to fuck him, and when he passes the force of those strokes on to Kitty, the boy gives a soft little moan in reply. I can see his face over Tommy's shoulder, so pale that the pink flush on his cheeks looks almost painted-on. I can see his half-closed eyes, with their heavy darkened lashes, and their thin sharp brows. I can see his lips, parted slightly and red raw from the fucking we gave his mouth. Then above him, I can see Tommy's gleaming dark hair, his tattooed shoulders, the muscles of his back, tensing and relaxing as he moves. The sight of all that would be enough to get my motor running all on its own, but with the tight heat of Tommy's ass swallowing my cock, gripping me like a smooth, wet fist, it's a struggle to pace myself. I can barely keep in control, and I'm not the only one.

"Johnny, it's too much," Tommy groans, looking over his shoulder again. "I'm not gonna last long if we keep on like this."

"Let him cool down for a while," Kitty says, running his hands down along Tommy's back like he's petting a dog. "We can entertain ourselves while he takes a break."

"Alright, sit down and watch for a bit, Tommy." I pull out slowly, and give him a light slap on the ass. "And you, Kitty, you come over here."

Once Tommy's pulled out and perched himself on one of the armchairs, Kitty gets up and follows me over to the chaise longue on the other side of the room. He must have read my mind, because as soon as I've stretched out on it, he sits down astride my lap, positioning himself just right so Tommy gets a good look at the rear view.

"This way round?" Kitty says, reaching back to take hold of my cock.

"Yeah," I nod. "So he can see everything."

And given what Tommy must be able to see, I almost wish I could swap places with him. Kitty sinks down onto my cock so smoothly, so easily, it's like he was made to take it, and he doesn't waste any time with gentle little thrusts, either. He just leans forward, braces himself against my shoulders, and starts riding me like he's trying to split that soft little ass of his in two. The bracelets on his wrists rattle and clink as he moves, and the pendants hanging from his neck sway in time with his strokes, and the whole lot dazzles me whenever the light glints off those big, gaudy gemstones. If I was the kind of big spender that boys like Kitty usually go for, I'd happily bankrupt myself for this. If I really was his manager, I'd have given the boy so many raises I'd have probably bankrupted the whole organisation by now. As I watch him, I can't help wondering if this is what he looked like to Patrick. I wonder if he gave the same kind of performance, brash and mischievous and demanding, or if he played it more obedient, more cautious, more conscious of his place. I wonder if he was afraid of Patrick, and then just for a moment, I wonder if he's afraid of me.

"Enjoying the show?" Kitty says, looking over his shoulder at Tommy.

"Course I am, who wouldn't be?" Tommy laughs. His eyes flit up to Kitty's face for a moment, but then they snap right back down to the boy's ass, which is, to be fair, exactly where _my_ eyes would be lingering.

"Why don't you come over here and join in, then?" Kitty glances down at me, with a perfectly mischievous little smile playing on his lips. "You wouldn't mind a bit of company, would you, Johnny?"

If he's planning what I think he's planning, I wouldn't mind at all. "The more the merrier," I say, beckoning Tommy over.

"Alright, but where d'you want me?" He stands next to us, stroking his fist over his cock, with a kind of happy but lost expression on his face.

I can't help laughing. "Where d'you _think_ he wants you?"

Tommy just stares at me blankly, until Kitty laughs and says "I want you to fuck me, Tommy. Both of you, at once."

"Can you take two at once?" he says, kneeling down behind Kitty. "You ain't gonna hurt yourself, are you?"

"Tommy, sweetheart," the boy says, almost purring the words, "I've had more cock than you've had hot dinners, so don't you go worrying about me."

Tommy laughs, and I'm just gearing up to tell him off for talking down to Kitty, when he edges forward and starts to push his cock in alongside mine, and all of a sudden I can't think anything but the feeling of him forcing his way in beside me. He goes slowly, much slower than I'd have been able to manage at his age, and every time he feeds a little bit more of his cock into Kitty, the boy squirms and rolls those narrow hips, breathing out the kind of soft little moans that would've made my self-control evaporate before I'd gotten halfway in. Their faces are a picture, the kind that gets you drunk just looking at it. Kitty's eyes are closed, and his lips are curled into a warm, satisfied smile, as if there's nothing that could make him more content, nothing that could feel more natural. Tommy's mouth is set in a determined frown, and his eyes are lowered, fixed on the boy's ass. He looks completely absorbed, like _he's_ the one trying his best to put on a good performance.

"Like that," Kitty moans, as Tommy starts to move inside him. "Not too fast, just like that, don't stop…"

He feels so tight around the two of us, so soft and impossibly hot. The pressure of Tommy's cock sliding against mine, it's grinding away at my self-control, wearing it down at a rate of knots. Kitty alone would be hard to resist, but the pair of them working together, that could finish me off in seconds if I don’t watch myself.

"Keep still," Tommy says, grabbing hold of the boy's hips. "Keep still, and let me—" He cuts himself off with a choked little groan, and when he meets my eyes, the look in them is pure desperation. There's a little bit of me that wants to string this out, to make Tommy wait all night, but then he furrows those dark eyebrows and says my name so feverishly it sounds like a curse and a prayer all at once, and all of a sudden there's no cruelty left in me.

"Kitty," I say, running my hands up over his chest, up to his shoulders. "I want you to see you come."

"Right now?" the boy says, wrapping one of those delicate hands around his own cock.

"Right now."

He strokes himself, slowly at first, bracing himself with his other hand against my chest, keeping his eyes on mine as he moves. Gradually his fist works faster and faster, gradually the little sighs and moans he's breathing out get louder and louder, more and more frantic, until he gives me the look that means _Now's your last chance to say Stop_. The second I give him the nod, he starts to come, and I can feel him tensing up around my cock, around both of us, shaking and quivering and tightening up in waves that feel like they'll go on forever. He leans back against Tommy, arching his back, working that pale hand ruthlessly as the last of it wracks him, and when he finally leans forward again, both me and him are sticky with come.

"Now, Tommy," I say, trying to keep my voice hard and firm. "You're next."

"Sure thing," he says casually, as if he hasn't been straining at the leash for the last ten minutes. Even if he tries to play it cool, though, his body can't lie, either to me or to Kitty. A dozen strokes, and he's grabbing onto the boy's waist with both hands, slamming into him so hard it shakes the both of us, grinding his cock against mine so close I swear I can feel every twitch and throb of it. He bites his lip as he starts to come, and I wish I could capture that moment, that look on his face, that vision, the tensed muscles and furrowed brow, the flush on his face, the way he gleams with pomade and sweat. The sight of him, that's what does me in, even more than the pressure of his cock sliding against mine. The sound of him groaning roughly and breathing hard, of his hips slapping against the boy's skin, of his cock plunging into that slick wet ass over and over, that's what drags me right over the edge with him. He gets right to the core of me, without even trying. Sometimes it frightens me, how easily he turns the key in my ignition. Sometimes I almost hate him for it, but then he looks at me with those wide, dark eyes, like he's looking at me now, and all that falls away.

"Well," Kitty says, slipping out from between us. "That was a vigorous end to an unpromising evening."

"Hah!" Tommy gets to his feet unsteadily, and when he stumbles against the foot of the chaise longue, I'm up and grabbing hold of him before I realise what I'm doing.

"Honestly," I tut at him. "Anyone'd think you were soaked."

"I can't help it, can I?" He looks up at me and grins. "Not with all the things you make me do."

"You poor thing." Kitty giggles, and that sets Tommy off laughing, and for a moment I want to cuff the both of them round the head.

"Yeah, hilarious." I mutter, trying to get things under control again. "The bathroom's through there, Kitty, if you want to have a shower."

"Thanks," he says, stretching out on the chaise longue. "But I think I'm going to lie down here for a bit first, if that’s alright?"

"Sure." I give him a smile, and grab hold of Tommy's arm. "Come on, you. Let's get you cleaned up while Kitty has a rest."

If anything, though, Tommy seems more exhausted than me and Kitty put together. The way he drags his feet and yawns as I lead him through to the bathroom, anyone'd think _he'd_ just had a two for one special, and it's only when he's standing under the hot water that he seems to wake up a bit.

"Hey, Johnny," the kid says, soaping his chest gingerly, like he's pulled a few muscles. "He's really good, that Kitty, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is." I lean against the edge of the sink, watching Tommy through the steamed-up glass of the shower door, "Once he's up and running, he's going to make the old man a lot of money."

"Hah!" Tommy's voice echoes off the tiles, loud enough to make me flinch. "D'you get a percentage of his takings, then?"

"No, don't be stupid." I snap at him. "That'd be like me having a cut of _your_ wages."

"Shame," he says, stepping out of the shower and into the towel I'm holding out for him. "Cos if you did, I reckon me and you'd be on track to retire early!"

It's a stupid idea, alright, but at the same time, I can't help thinking it's one I should've had myself. I mean, right now, everyone gets a fixed wage, plus whatever bonuses the boss feels like handing out for good behaviour. But what if I _do_ end up managing the boys?

"I'm knackered, Johnny," the kid says, leaning against me. "Can I go straight to bed?"

"Sure, go on." I nod, but I'm not really listening. My head's full of things I should've been worrying about a month ago. Let's say I do start managing the boys. Am I going to end up on commission like a used car salesman? Am I going to end up squeezing every last drop out of my boys, pushing them for more and more profit, just so I can afford an extra holiday or a new car? I don't like the sound of that, I don't like it one bit. I need to talk to Miller about all this, and I need to get it straight in my head what I'm going to say, otherwise it's going to come out all wrong and land me in even more trouble.

"Tell Kitty I said 'night."

"Alright," I say, squeezing his shoulder. "I won't be long."

I go through into the lounge, gearing up to drop some hints that it's about time Kitty was on his way, but he's nowhere to be seen. For a minute I panic, thinking he's done a runner already, but then the breeze blows in from outside, and I notice the balcony door half-open. He's out there, leaning casually against the railing, looking at the sky and holding a cigarette loosely in one hand like he's forgotten about it already. He hasn't bothered putting anything back on except his trousers, and somehow standing out there barefoot and shirtless, pale as a ghost against the grey-orange night sky behind him, he looks more fragile than ever. But the worst of it is the expression on his face. His lips are set in a blank smile, but his eyes are wet and glistening. You'd have to be a fool not to realise what's going on behind those eyes. The pain of being sent away from his friend, the way he aches every time he thinks of the boy, the loneliness of knowing he's got to go home to an empty bed. I can see it all. It's written all over his face. He looks wounded and lost, and it floors me so hard I've got no idea what I'd even begin to say to him, if he knew I was watching. The coward in me's glad he hasn't noticed, and there's a kind of sick feeling of relief in the pit of my stomach as I watch him take a deep breath and pull himself together. By the time he comes back inside, he's almost back to normal. His smile is as bright as ever, his eyes are warm and cheerful, and there's only the dried streaks of a few tears on his cheeks to give him away.

"Oh, Johnny, there you are," he says, with just the slightest quiver in his voice. "Would you mind if I went straight home now? I'm afraid you've tired me out completely."

"Sure," I say, trying to hold back from slipping an arm around him. "You go on home and take it easy, Kitty. I reckon you've earned a good rest."

 

* * *

 

"There's nothing for it," I say, stretching out on the sofa. "It'll have to be me and you."

"Aw, come on, Johnny, that's just stupid." Tommy looks at me like I've gone mad. "What's it say on that note, eh?"

"Two boys, both dark-haired, one older and taller, the other younger and delicate-looking."

"Exactly," he says, pointing at the bit of paper. "I'm younger and shorter, alright, but no-one's going to buy me as the breakable type, are they? We'd get laughed right out of the room."

"Well, what d'you want me to do? Turn the job down? Ring the guy up and tell him sorry, we're out of stock, try again next week?"

"Yeah, but Johnny, we're _not_ out of stock, are we? We've got exactly the right item in the warehouse, and it's been sitting there for a month now, looking pretty and bringing in zero money."

"If you mean Kitty," I say, trying not to tense up, "he can't work tomorrow night, he's busy."

"Honestly, Johnny," the kid laughs, shaking his head. "I know you're useless with this stuff, but if you can't see what's going on here, you must be going senile."

"Watch your mouth, you." I reach over and cuff him round the back of the head, but he just keeps on smirking at me, watching me with those gleeful dark eyes, until I give in. "Alright then," I say, with a little sigh. "Enlighten a clueless old man. What's going on, that I can't see?"

"Kitty's having you on," he says, rolling his eyes. "He's laying it on thick with the heartbroken act so you'll go easy on him."

"What d'you mean, go easy on him? You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh yeah? What's he doing tonight, then?"

"It's his night off. They _do_ get time off, you know."

"Right, and what was he up to last night?"

"Well," I say, but then I realise how my answer's going to sound, and it takes me a minute to put together a version that's not quite so bad. "He was meant to be working, but I changed my mind and sent Leo instead."

"Hmm," the kid says, smirking. "And what about the night before?"

"He was a bit out of sorts, so I didn't want to risk sending him out and having him make a bad job of it."

"Funny, that." Tommy grins at me again. "Look, I don't blame him. He's got a cushy deal, and if I figured out a way of drawing my wages without doing anything, you can bet I'd be at it too. But the thing is, Johnny, you can't let him have his way all the time." He pauses, letting that grin settle down into a warm, apologetic smile. "It's not fair on the other boys, and I've gotta be honest, it makes you look like a chump."

I don't know what to say to that, so I just lie there, looking at the ceiling, trying to piece it all together. I don't care about looking like a chump. I make a fool of myself twenty times before breakfast, even on a good day. That's just how I'm built. But being unfair to the rest of the boys, that's a different kettle of fish entirely. I can live with being a chump, but I'm not going to play favourites, not even for a boy like Kitty.

"Aw, Johnny, don't take it personally," the kid says, moving over to sit next to me. "I know you can't help it, you've just got a blind spot when it comes to pretty boys, everyone knows that."

"Everyone?" I frown at him. " _Everyone_ knows?"

"Yeah," he nods, grinning. "And _that's_ why you need me around, to watch out for you, to give you a heads-up if one of the boys is trying to pull the wool over your eyes."

"What, like a little guard-dog?" I laugh, reaching up to ruffle his hair. "Alright Fido, get lost, I need to make a phone call."

"Sure thing," he says, smiling down at me as he gets to his feet. He must like the guard-dog idea, because he jogs over and fetches the telephone so I don't even have to stand up, and before he goes, he grins and says "If he needs a bit of extra convincing, you just—"

"Go on," I say, picking up the receiver with one hand and shooing him away with the other. "Go and fix some drinks."

"Sure thing, Johnny!" he says again, loud and cheerful. As I dial Kitty's number, I can't help wondering what I did to deserve having a little punk like Tommy glued to my side.

"Hello?" Kitty answers brightly, after a couple of rings.

"Kitty, it's Johnny."

"Oh." He pauses. "Oh, hello, Johnny," he carries on, sounding a lot less bright and a lot more tired.

"I know you said you couldn't make it, but I need to you work tomorrow night after all."

"Oh, but Johnny, I did say that it'd be very difficult to—"

"You did say that," I cut him off, letting my voice get as firm and hard as it would be with any of the other boys. "But I need you to work, and that's the end of it."

"Well, if you really need me to work, I suppose I could cancel my plans," he says, with a tremor in his voice. "But it's just that I've been so tired lately, and of course I don't want to do a sub-par job for you, so if there's any way you could—"

"No." I say, hard and flat. "You're working, Kitty. No ifs and no buts."

There's another pause, and I hold my breath, bracing myself for tears, anger, him hanging up, I don't know what. But instead, after a second or two, he just says "Okay, then," in the same bright voice as when he answered. "Will you be picking me up, or am I meeting you there?"

I'm so flummoxed that it takes me a moment to answer. "I'll pick you up. Be ready to leave at seven sharp, alright?"

"Alright, Johnny," the boy says, like there was no problem at all. "See you tomorrow, then!"

 

* * *

 

"Please," he says, flinching as I raise my hand. He's a better actor than any boy I've worked with before, and if I didn't know better I'd think he really was scared of me. "Please, don't, I can't take it!"

I glance up at the old guy, and when he nods, I look down at Kitty and give him a nasty smirk. "If you don't want another, you'd better get on with it, hadn't you?"

"Yes, yes, okay," he starts to say, but I shove his head down before he can get another word out, and when my cock slides back into his mouth, he does the best impression of a boy struggling to take it and failing that you ever saw. He trembles and coughs like he really is choking, and he tugs at the denim of my jeans with what feels like real desperation.

"Alright," the old guy says, working his hand a bit faster over his cock. "That's enough, you can come."

I pull out and yank Kitty's head back, letting my cock slap against his cheek for a second, before I get to work. It's uncanny, watching him staring up at me, sore-lipped and wide-eyed, breathless and blushing bright red. With the smoothly-parted hair, and the plain suit and tie, he really does look like the prim little clerk he's supposed to be. I could've picked him up from any of the offices in town. And it does the trick, too, because as soon as I start to come all over that pretty, innocent-looking face, the old guy watching us starts to come too. I keep half an eye on him while I'm finishing up, and if the smile on the old goat's face is anything to go by, I think there's a bonus in this for the pair of us.

"We'll be going, then," I say, giving the old guy a brisk, friendly smile, once we're all dressed again.

"Yes, goodnight," he says, holding out a couple of notes, just like I expected. They all pay up front these days, straight into the account Miller's got stashed away for this stuff, but some of the old-timers like to tip in cash as well, out of what I think is a taste for tradition. That's another thing I need to figure out, too. What are we going to do about payments, if we do expand this side of the business? There's so much I need to think about, sometimes I wish I could just call up Ray and give him a list of questions for Patrick. The thought makes me laugh. It's a stupid idea, but even if I can't ask directly, at least I can get a bit of second-hand information.

"Kitty," I say casually, as we get into the car. "D'you mind if I ask you a bit about your old job?"

"Not at all," he says, with a little yawn. "But can it wait until tomorrow? You won't get much sense out of me tonight, I'm shattered."

"Sure," I nod. "Thanks."

I start the car, and when I glance over at Kitty, he's staring out of the window with that same lonely look in his eyes. I _know_ he knows better than to try it on with me now, but even if there's a chance he's putting it on, somehow I can't help wanting to be sure. I know I should leave it, but I can't. Everything else can wait until tomorrow, but there's one thing I need to clear up, right now.

"D'you resent him?"

"Who?"

"Patrick. For sending you away."

"Oh, no, not at all," Kitty laughs. "I knew what the rules were before I started working for him. On my first day, he lined me and the other new starters up, and said 'You little beasts can fuck each other silly for all I care, but if you want to embark on a Grand Love Affair, you can do so in someone else's employ.'"

He does that arch voice so well, I can't help wincing a bit in sympathy. "Start as you mean to go on, eh?"

"Oh, it sounds harsher than it was. When it came down to it, Patrick just offered us a choice, and quite a generous one, really." He pauses, with what looks like a real wistful smile on his lips. "He said we could leave, and he'd give us a couple of train tickets to wherever we wanted to set up house, plus a bit extra as a going-away present. Or, we could keep working, but separately."

"And you chose to keep working?"

"Yes," Kitty says, firmly. He looks at the dashboard for a moment, and when he looks at me again, his eyes are full of fire. "I've got plans, Johnny. Aspirations. I won't let anything get in the way of them."

"Not even someone you love?"

"Not even someone I love."

"You were right, you know." I laugh, reaching over to stroke my thumb across his cheekbone. "It _is_ solid ice under there."


End file.
